


Deeper

by AnneValkyria



Series: Deeper [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Heartbreak, Hotel, Hotel Sex, Jealousy, M/M, No one dies though, POV First Person, Slash, Sleep Sex, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, canon and non canon, milex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-12-31 23:05:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18323789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneValkyria/pseuds/AnneValkyria
Summary: Be careful what you wish for, it might come true





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything recognizable herein and I have no intention of profiting on my writing.
> 
> Beta: GeezerWench

  


 

  
  


**1.**

The time on my phone read twenty minutes past three. A whole five, maybe six minutes since the last time I checked. The sounds coming from the room to my right had finally quieted about an hour ago. The ones to my left shortly after. It could’ve been hot, if I hadn’t had to listen to Kyle Valenti groan, “Yeah, take that cock,” every five seconds.

 

My arm hung off the bed, swinging like a pendulum, with my fingers brushing against the threadbare throw rug. I laid on my back, as far to the side as the double-size mattress allowed without falling off and landing on the floor.

 

I’d given up on sleep hours ago and just waited for morning to come so we could all just go home. Something I _never_ thought I’d say. Without a TV in the room, there wasn’t much to do besides stare at the ceiling; stained in a disgusting shade of brownish-yellow from  years of nicotine exposure and neglect. The room reeked of a mix of cigarette smoke, urine, cum, and other bodily … fluids. The pungent stench permeated  the air, the furniture, and even the walls. There was no way the motel had seen a paintbrush or hammer since it was built, which, judging by the condition of the place, had to have been sometime in the late 16th century. The wallpaper looked as if it originated from sometime around that era. I saw something similar on an episode of _Antiques Roadshow_ the week before.

 

We were at least ten hours outside of Roswell, and I needed sleep or I’d be of no use on the drive tomorrow. I blinked to ease the itching and burning—my eyes felt grainy and dry as if I shoved my head in the sand.

 

I tried counting sheep, but only made it as far as one hundred before giving up. Doing it backwards transformed the ninety-eighth woolen critter into bottles of beer on the wall, which got me thinking about the actual beer on the floor. There were two cans left in the six-pack next to the room’s only chair. It was one of those spindly types, with springs poking through the cushion’s faded floral pattern, with more stuffing outside than  inside. The bizarre guy with buck teeth and one lazy eye manning the front desk tried to pass it off as a loveseat, probably thinking it would raise the value of the room. Nothing could, especially not the Chinese torture device barely big enough to fit one, let alone _two_ people. He’d have a better chance at claiming it was a Louis XIII from the 19th century. I had watched that episode, too, maybe three weeks ago.

So many antique shows, so little time.

 

I tried to do some quick math in my head—my mass times the volume of beer to see if I’d get drowsy enough to catch some Z’s. It seemed like a good idea, for about two point zero seconds. Because then I’d have to drink it, which meant I’d have to taste it … And blargh. It wasn’t worth it, not even for a few hours rest. My face twisted in a grimace. I had drunk plenty of carbonated bile in my life. Cold beer burned like stomach acid going down. It clawed at your throat like an acid reflux volcano. Lukewarm tasted better than cold, just barely. Less of a buzz, same horrible aftertaste. Emphasis on the _horrible_.

 

I gagged.

 

My body automatically reacted to my throat’s rhythmic clenching and unclenching with forceful shuddering, the bedsprings protesting loudly. Trying to hold it back just made it worse.  The bed’s creaking, and my own groaning, drew a sleepy mumble from the person on the other side of the bed.

 

I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling a headache coming on. Michael _fucking_ Guerin. Michael to his friends, _asshole_ to me. The bane of my existence, the reason for many sleepless nights, and the warm body currently spread out next to me, on top of the blanket, sleeping peacefully.

 

‘ _Asshole_.’

 

Angry, I grabbed the pillow from behind my head and gave it a couple of hard punches. Moisture; sweat, drool, tears and more— I didn’t want to linger too long on the _more_ —had seeped through the surrounding case and into the feathers, clumping them together. It felt like hitting a bag of rocks.

 

Guerin hummed, uncrossed his arms from behind his head and moved them to rest on his taut abdomen, and by doing so, drawing attention to his pecs. How firm, yet soft they looked. How well-defined. I wanted to lick each flat, dusky pink nipple to see if they tasted as sweet as I imagined. I scraped my teeth against my lower lip. “ _Hnnnngh_.”

 

Without realizing it, I had reached out to … I wasn’t sure what. My hand just kind of hovered in the air above the trail of dark hair leading from his belly button to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his black boxer briefs.

 

‘ _Beautiful_.’ Not a word I’d ever used to describe a guy, but with Guerin it just fit. It almost hurt to look at him.

 

It hadn’t always been that way. Growing up, everything about him had been big. Big brain, big nose, big ears ... big hair. He’d started shaving it off in junior high, but instead of being an improvement, it ended up making his other features stand out even more. Still, he’d been cute, in an awkward sort of way, and a little pudgy around the middle, but he hadn’t exactly been a guy I wanted to write songs about. It all changed when I watched him walk through the doors the first day of our senior year.  

 

Whatever they’d put in the water that summer had done wonders for the male students in my grade and the one below. They had left for break as boys and come  back as men.

Suddenly, the year I had left till graduation didn’t seem quite  as bad.

 

~o~o~o~

 

_The clock on the wall showed 7 am. Any other day of the year, the hallway would have been empty for another twenty-five minutes before students began trickling through the doors, a few in a hurry to get to the first class of the day, but most just dragging their feet, doing the best they could to avoid the unavoidable. The first day was different. Everyone came early to see and be seen, find out who got hot and who … didn’t. I had already been there for fifteen minutes or so._

 

_I’d spilled out of bed after just a couple of hours of sleep, skipped breakfast so I could spend the extra time on my appearance—first impressions were everything—then drove straight to school so I could get there ahead of everyone else. I was on a mission._

 

_Leaning against my locker, I jotted down some stuff in my brand new notebook. The familiar sounds of something scraping against bricks, rubber soles squeaking and scuffing against the tiled floors, clanging of metal meeting metal, and voices, some loud and clear, others deep and quiet, were all  nothing more than background noises. I was so preoccupied with what I was doing, I actually jumped when I heard a high pitched squeal followed by my name. Seconds later, something slammed into me, knocking me backwards. The air left my lungs in a whoosh. “Oof.”_

 

_Two sets of lean arms wrapped around my neck and squeezed a little too hard. “Maria, Liz,” I wheezed once I was able to form actual words. “I’m happy to see you, too. Now, please let me go so I can breathe.”_

 

_When they did, I pretended to to fake hacking and coughing while greedily sucking  in mouthful after mouthful of sweet fucking oxygen. Seconds later, twin pains exploded in my biceps as they punched me. “The hell?” I had my entire repertoire  of PMS jokes on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. I didn’t want to risk them hitting me where I was the most vulnerable. They were deceptively strong for their sizes._

 

_The school’s ancient PA system crackled and the vice principal began reading announcements in her monotone voice. “After last year’s outbreak of athlete’s foot, we want to remind everyone to never go into the showers barefoot.”_

 

_Maria tapped her fingers against her hip. As usual, she wore an oversized gypsy skirt held up by a wide belt with a large silver buckle encrusted with  turquoise, her mother made and sold from the market, and tank top. “Where the hell have you been all summer?” she asked, sounding even more cattish than usual._

 

_Liz crossed her arms just below her boobs. I The movement pulled down her pink blouse and gave her the mother of all cleavages. Her already pinched expression turned into an angry scowl when she noticed and gesticulated wildly. She started shouting at me in Spanish, her sleek, black ponytail flying with her movements. “_ Pinche pendejo _!_ Es una mierda! _You don’t call, you don’t write._ Donde has estado? Estábamos preocupados _!”_

 

_“Yeah.” Maria nodded. “I thought we were friends.”_

 

_“Uh ...” I sucked a little on my top lip and cocked my head to the side. “I’m ...  sorry?”_

 

_The corner of Liz’s mouth twitched._

 

_Maria shoved a finger in my face, but the twinkle in her dark brown eyes made it hard to take her dirty look seriously. “You better be.” Her hand went back to her hips. “Just...” she started, trying to sound stern. “... don’t do it again.”_

 

_Someone walked by and bumped into Maria, who knocked Liz into me. I took the opportunity to pull them into a tight hug.  “_ Locas _.” The wire spiral on my notebook dug into my ribs. It hurt like a bitch but I didn’t care, I just held them closer. “I’ve missed you.”_

 

_Maria rubbed her cheek on the soft fabric of my new black turtleneck, over where my heart beat evenly inside my chest, like an affectionate kitten. The next thing I knew claws bit into my side. “So you won’t forget.”_

 

_“Ooow.” I jerked away from her and dropped my arms. I pressed one hand to the stinging spot above my hip and the other to the bicep still throbbing from Liz’s punch.Through the corner of my eye, I saw someone walking towards where we stood, but when I noticed it was just little Noah Bracken, I turned my attention back on the girls. “So violent.”_

 

_“Whatever,” Maria waved me off with a pfft. “You’ll live. Now, where were you?”_

 

_“The Air Force Academy in Colorado. For the summer seminar…” I was met by blank looks and barely resisted rolling my eyes. “... that I told you about a dozen times.”_

 

_“That was for five weeks,_ Estúpido _,” Liz exclaimed. “_ Yo puedo contar, saber _.”_

 

_I went to push my hair behind my ear, forgetting my new, shorter ‘do. “Yeah, but dad pulled some strings and …”_

 

_“...kept you away for three months,” Maria finished the sentence with a snarl. “Son of a bitch!”_

 

_“_ Hijo de puta _!” Liz spat, then turned her fiery eyes on me. “You could’ve called,_ Culo _.”_

 

_“They confiscated our phones the first day, and I didn’t get mine back until I left for the airport.”_

 

_Maria narrowed her eyes. “I see they had scissors,” she snapped and flicked the gelled spikes, all that was left of my formerly dark hair. “And is that_ guyliner _?”_

 

_Heat rose to my cheeks, “I’m trying something different.” The result of too many wine coolers and a cute guy with a dare and an eye pencil. I liked the new style more than the kisses and decided to keep it._

 

_“_ Mierda _,” Liz snorted. “So you’re trying to tell us there are no phones in the entire state of Colorado? No internet? Smoke signals? Carrier pigeons?” she mocked me. “How did you survive?”_

 

_“Sorry,” I snickered. “I’ll do better next time.”_

 

_“You better.” Liz hooked her arm around mine and leaned into me. I was forgiven. “So when did you get home?”_

 

_“Late last night. I went straight to bed and crashed.”_

 

_Sean DeLuca ruffled his cousins hair as he passed us on the way to his locker. I grabbed my notebook from underneath my arm and wrote him down as a ‘maybe’. Grant Sorensen glanced at me from his locker two doors away from mine. The slow way he licked his lips while staring at me sent him right to the ‘yes’ column._

 

_“Whaddya got there, Alex?” Maria asked curiously, trying to sneak a peek._

 

_“A … roster, I guess you could call it,” I answered absentmindedly while adding a couple of names under Hell No._

 

_“Of what?”_

 

_I kept my eyes on the hallway, scribbling down a few names, crossing out others. “I’m compiling a list of the guys who got hot over the summer, and comparing them to the guys I suspect are gay, or at least bicurious.”_

 

_Liz got up on her toes and tried to get a look._

 

_“Relax.” I grinned down at her. “Max’s not on it.”_

 

_She laughed. “I could’ve told you that.”_

 

_Kyle Valenti strutted by on his way to his girlfriend’s locker. An involuntary shudder went through me._ _I turned my attention back to the notebook, and covered half the page with a big, fat ‘never’ in blocky capital letters._

 

_His eyes met Liz’s, and he slimed his signature smirk. “Hey. Long time no see.”_

 

_She returned his greeting with a polite, regal finger wave. Kyle nodded at Maria, but when he_ **_turned_ ** _his beady eyes on me, his mouth twisted in disgust. I flipped him off and turned my back on him. “Ugh,” I stuck a finger into my mouth and pretended to gag. “How could you go out with him?” I asked Liz incredulously._

 

_She had dated him for almost two years before coming to her senses. “He has some good qualities,” she answered. Then, cocking her head, she put a finger to her chin, probably realizing she didn’t have to come to his defense anymore. “Right?”_

 

_In my book, there was only one thing that could even remotely make up for his assholish ways. “That depends,” I sort of hummed and tapped the pen against my teeth. I asked the question I wondered about, but didn’t really want the answer to. “Is there any truth in the rumors? That he’s got a big …?”_

 

_“Ego?” Maria snorted. “Then yes, and that’s all that’s big about him”_

 

_My eyes widened, and Liz’s grew  huge on her face. I turned to face Maria. “Eh…” I tried to find the words, but how did you ask your best friend if she’d been canoodeling with satan himself? Everything inside me revolted._ It better not mean what I think it means _. “Something you wanna share, hun?”_

 

_“No! Ew!” She pushed me, hard, and I bounced back, sort of like a roly-poly toy. “Who the hell do you take me for? Some of us have standards.”_

 

_“Hey!” Liz protested._

 

_“Sorry, but you know I’m right.” Maria stated bluntly. “Look at the way he flaunts himself. Tight shirts, even tighter jeans. There is no way he’s hiding anything bigger than a cocktail weiner inside those Wranglers.”_

 

_A strangled sound escaped Liz. She pressed her lips together, turning an interesting shade of purple. Maria was too busy listing Kyle’s other_ shortcomings _to notice. Liz’s light brown eyes watered when Maria brought up a particular fond memory of him in wet boardshorts that left_ everything _to the imagination, and for a moment I thought she’d start crying. Palming her face, she bent forward, clutching her stomach. She gasped for breath, and with tears pouring down her cheeks she burst out into a roaring laughter._

 

_I zeroed in on Kyle’s fly. I saw myself as a true connoisseur of denim-covered cock, but just_ thinking _about what kind of sausage Kyle had packed away in his shorts made me throw up in my mouth. But I couldn’t look away. I even squinted a little. It didn’t look like anything to write home about. My lips puckered in a moue of pity. “Poor Cam.”_

 

_“Am I the only one who thinks she dresses up in cheap vinyl corsets and takes The Cat to his lily white ass?” Maria asked randomly._

 

_Vivid pictures seared themselves into my brain thanks to my active imagination._

 

_Liz had been wiping her face with the back of her hand, but at Maria’s words she was back to hacking and coughing. “Oh, my god!” Liz sputtered. “What is_ wrong _with you?”_

 

_Maria shrugged. “So I guess it’s just me then.”_

 

_I caught Patrick Howe checking out the three of us from his locker and gave him the stink eye. This wasn’t a fucking Spice Girls song. I didn’t want any potential lovers even_ thinking _about getting with my friends. I crossed out his name._

 

_Dressed in a leather jacket and torn jeans, Jenna Cameron—Cam to those who valued their lives—shoved Kyle up against her locker and proceeded to swallow his face. The horribly disturbing images made a sudden rerun in my mind, this time in full 4D, with the sounds, and the smells, and the ..._ Oh, God, I’m gonna be sick _._

 

_I looked away from the public display of are-you-fucking-kidding-me just as Michael Guerin walked through the doors. My mouth dropped open. “Fuck. Me.”_ Please! _Everything around me disappeared, as if someone had hit the mute button, and all I heard were my own heartbeats and the blood rushing in my ears._

 

_We were the only two left as the hallway transformed into a slow motion montage. He didn’t walk, but floated. The glare of the fluorescents made him shine even more brightly._

 

_Angels sang in the beautiful voice of Ruelle._

 

_“You’re pulling me in_

_This is how it begins_

_See how much I can take_

_Push and pull ‘till I break”_

 

_In a daze, I licked my dry lips._

 

_He walked with a new swagger, and it wasn’t_ all _that had changed. The long summer had added at least three inches to his height and he’d let his hair grow into a tousled mess of espresso brown curls. One errant lock fell into his eyes, and my fingers itched to brush it away. The green flannel went perfectly with his hazel eyes. I wanted to lick the tanned skin peeking through the open collar. The rest of his face had caught up with his formerly oversized ears and nose and was all sharp angles and a strong jaw softened by a light scruff. A half smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and his full pink lips were made for kissing and sucking on my cock._

 

_There wasn’t an ounce of baby fat left on his body. The shirt strained against his broad shoulders and the muscular planes of his chest. His jeans, looking soft and well worn, hung dangerously low on narrow hips, but it did nothing to disguise the contours of his cock. The muscles in his thighs flexed deliciously with each long stride. He nodded casually to people he knew but didn’t stop to talk to anyone. His gaze never touched me directly but I could feel the heat on my skin. I didn’t need a mirror to know the tip of my ears burned a bright red._

 

_Salivating, I watched him pass my locker and followed every rock of his hips and sway of his ass until he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. I squeezed my fists, startled by the sound of crinkling paper. Looking down, I found I had ripped the page out of the notebook without even realizing it. It made perfect sense. After seeing him, no one else would do._

 

_A couple of hours later, in P.E, I had just sat down on the bleachers to tie my shoes when who sauntered  out of the locker room if not Michael_ fucking _Guerin. I almost swallowed my tongue when he took off his shirt halfway through class to wipe the sweat from his face. I had to fake an injury—not difficult  when I was already limping—so I could rub one out in the showers._

 

_In the afterglow of my first Michael-related orgasm, my heart was beating so hard I could literally feel it slamming against my ribs._

 

_The emotions were too strong, too powerful to be one-sided. It convinced me he had to feel the same. It was just a matter of time before he came to realize it._

 

~o~o~o~

 

I had been so young once. So naive. So stupid.

 

It may have been my first Guerin-related shower session, but certainly not the last. It hadn’t worked in my favor then either. My dick throbbed, hard less than an hour after jerking off in the crappy motel room’s tiny bathroom. The images popping up in my head made me ache, and the more I tried to push them away the faster and harder they came back. Like whack-a-mole, if the moles were fantasies of what I wanted to do to Michael, and have him do to me. Two guys in a motel, alone, in nothing but underwear, sharing the same bed, inhibitions lowered by alcohol … Anything could happen ...

 

Except Guerin wasn’t gay.

 

I had found it hard to believe at first, but the evidence just kept piling up in the form of more than half the girls of Roswell High bragging about it. The beautiful man-boy with eyes that saw into your soul and a pinchable bubble butt was of the heterosexual persuasion.

 

‘ _What a waste_.’

 

Moaning, Michael twisted and turned on the bed until he ended up on his side. The shift in weight caused a dip in the mattress, the sheet—and me—slipped towards the middle of the bed. I held my breath, afraid to move a single muscle and risk accidentally brushing up against him.

 

Ever so carefully, I shuffled closer to the edge, my heart beating so loudly in my ears, Guerin had to hear it. While I was scared shitless to wake him, I desperately wanted to know what would happen if I did.

 

My hands felt clammy and cold, I tried shaking them to get some blood to my fingers and ended up brushing my fingers against the back of his hand. I flinched, burned by the accidental touch. The pain felt so real I was surprised there wasn’t a singe mark on my skin.

 

Frustrated, I grabbed the  pillow and held it over my face. I sucked in a harsh breath, and almost choked on the rancid smell of stale cigarettes and old sweat.  ‘ _Argghhh! I am in Hell_.’

  


tbc

 

**Thank you for reading**


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: There was supposed to be another chapter before this one, but I just couldn’t write it. Not sure if it’s relevant to the story or not, but I want to add it if I can. Maybe as outtakes or something later.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Here’s were most of the warnings apply so remember to check the tags before reading
> 
>  
> 
> A special thanks to my beta GeezerWench, without her this would have accidentally turned into a Vampire Diaries crossover
> 
>  
> 
> I kept changing the title. I have issues.

The last thing I remember was closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to stare at the ugly wallpaper a minute longer. Some time thereafter I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, an arm snaked around my torso, the heavy weight pinning me to the mattress. My first instinct was to scream, but then I remembered: The concert, getting a hotel room, and having to share a bed with Michael  _ fucking _ Guerin. 

 

Cuddling … that was new. But, since it was probably the only chance I’d have to be this close to him, I would just shut up and enjoy it. I leaned into the warm body behind me and let the even puffs of his hot breath lull me to sleep.

 

Minutes later I was jerked awake when Guerin’s callused hand slipped inside the front of my T-shirt. His fingers splayed over my stomach and traveled north to my chest. He flicked the ring in my nipple. The little tug set my nerve endings on fire and went straight to my cock. “Whoa,” I gasped. “What the fuck?”

 

Guerin’s answer was to pull me closer, his front pressed to my back, until the thin cotton was all that kept me from finding out if the smattering of hair was as soft as it looked, and press a soft kiss to the nape of my neck. My heart beat faster. I loved being this close to him. Heat radiated from his body, and I burned for him. 

 

My breath caught in my throat, and the thump of my heart stuttered to a halt, just to race in the next moment when I felt something hard press into the crack of my ass. Goosebumps rose on my arms and spread across my skin until it covered my whole body. “Shit,” I hissed. He had never looked at me with anything other than disdain before, and now he was humping my ass. The ‘need to know’ was waning fast, but I had to ask. “Fuck. Guerin, what are you doing?” 

 

Guerin dragged his hand down my chest, and I ached for him to just grab my cock through my boxers already. He bunched up my shirt, and then I felt him, skin to skin, heart to heart, his rhythmic push against my clothed ass. He moaned, the vibrations tickled the shell of my ear, sparking my own.

 

With swift and sure movements, Guerin worked my tee up and over my head. A shiver went through me when his nipples scraped against my bare back. His name came out no louder than a whisper—my mouth so dry I could barely speak. I didn’t know if I should curse the last two layers separating us, or be grateful for them. My fingers twitched nervously. After months of fantasies, my dreams were coming true. So why couldn’t I shake the thought that it was all happening a little too fast? 

 

Guerin tugged at my boxers, and the next thing I knew, he’d pulled them down below my asscheeks. His erection smacked against my bare skin. I hardly had time to wonder when he had time to remove his own before he roughly rolled his hips, his cock hard against me.

 

A shiver of anticipation, and apprehension, jolted through me. 

 

I groaned, “I wanna kiss you,” and pushed down on my elbow so I could turn around. I wanted to look into his eyes. I had to see for myself that this was real and not my mind playing tricks on me. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Guerin stopped me from rolling onto my back by gripping my jaw tightly. The heel of his palm dug into my throat. It was more uncomfortable than painful, but I stopped trying to move. “Guerin?” I said his name as a question, quietly and hesitantly.

 

Guerin’s scruff scraped the sensitive skin as he sucked at the nape of my neck, sending delicious shudders down my spine. He never answered me, though.

 

I found all the secrecy sexy, but we weren’t hiding in the janitor closet at school, with every senior right outside the door. We were in a hotel room, located to the left of nowhere, and yes, our friends were on either side of us, but that just meant we should keep quiet, not that we couldn’t make a sound at all.

 

Wiry hair tickled the small of my back.

 

Thanks to the twenty dollar bottle of astroglide I used when fingerfucking myself in the shower earlier, Guerin’s cock slid smoothly between my slick cheeks. His thrusts started out short and shallow, turning deeper, longer. He pulled away, then rocked forward, bumping his crown against my tight hole. Every time that happened I clenched my fists, my nails leaving little half moon marks on the palm of my hands. 

 

Sticky with precome, my boxers clung to my painfully hard cock like a second skin. I pushed them completely off and grabbed my aching erection, hoping it would give some relief.

 

Collecting the drops leaking from the slit, I stroked my shaft with short, almost lazy movements. I kept to a slow speed, even when Guerin picked up his, just to torture myself. 

 

Guerin’s lips grazed the shell of my ear, eliciting a whole new set of chills. His breathing— stuttering and shallow—matched my own. His hold on my jaw loosened as his thrust became jerky, more erratic, and I turned my head in search of his lips. Our bodies were blanketed in a fine sheen of sweat.

 

Then I felt him.

 

Hard, and hot, and right fucking there.

 

The noise he made in back of his throat was more animal than anything. 

 

I tried to swallow around the dryness in my mouth.

 

He kept pushing.

 

Pushing.

 

Pushing.

 

My voice shook when I asked him if he was sure, because I wasn’t. Not really. 

 

I was as far from sure as one could be. But I had wanted this for too long to tell him no. I might not get a second chance, and there was no way in hell I’d give up my one time with the boy—man—of my dreams. 

 

Guerin pushed slowly into me, the head of his cock stretching me open. I felt as if he was splitting me in half. “Wait…” I whimpered. “Slow down.” 

 

Silently, Guerin increased the pressure until I was sure I couldn’t take it anymore. With a guttural cry he slammed his hips forward, knocking the air right out of me. My eyes popped out of my head and a white hot pain seared through me. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, until the taste of copper filled my mouth. 

 

My dick was no longer hard, the burning in my ass having killed my erection. Silent tears fell down my cheeks. Guerin’s breathing slowed, his breath damp and hot against my neck. I clutched the sheet hard enough for my knuckles to whiten. I pulled my legs to my chest to escape the pain. It only made it worse.

 

The sentence, “I’m no longer a virgin,” played on repeat, like an uncertain mantra in my mind.

 

It took all my energy to force my muscles to relax around him. Guerin’s forehead dropped to my shoulder and he started moving. My ass stretched around him. The burning subsided, the remainders of the lube and Guerin’s precome helped, but I hadn’t been ready. Next time, if there ever was one, I would be.

 

I gasped when Gerin hit a place inside of me. He hit it again, and again, and again. An inaudible sob broke through my tightly pressed lips as pleasure spread like wildfire. My cock stirred. There was still some pain, but not as much as before. 

 

My eyelids fluttered close and my heart slammed against my ribs with a dizzying speed. A tingle ran down my spine as he kept hitting that spot. “Ughhhh.” I clawed at the mattress, aligning my hips to give my cock the friction it so badly needed. My abdomen tightened with each thrust, the pressure building. “Hnggghhh.”

 

“Too much.”

 

“I… can’t…”

 

My cock drooled precome all over the rubbery sheets. I could feel Guerin swelling inside of me.

 

I was close.

 

He was close. I could feel it.

 

“So…. close.”

 

The hot spray of his come inside my ass set off my own orgasm. 

 

The twitching started in my thighs, than spread like a raging bushfire. Down to my toes, than back up to the top of my head. I rocked and shuddered. Groans, growls, and sounds I’d never made before, broke the silence. I couldn’t stop shaking. Jet after jet of my come splashed against the sheets.

 

Guerin released my jaw and gripped my hip, hard enough to leave a mark. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

 

It was the first word he’d said, and it was perfect.

 

Smiling, I snuggled against his chest, my spent dick wet against my abdomen. “Guerin?” I whispered, but as usual I got no answer. “Michael?”

 

The only response he gave was a quiet snore.

 

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t even move. 

 

A minute or two later his limp dick slipped out of my ass, he pulled back his arm and rolled away until we laid there, back to back, no longer touching. 

 

He snored again and I could no longer hold back the sobs.

 

_ He didn’t even kiss me _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnotes: Only an epilogue left, and then there’s the sequel in Michael’s point of view…. And maybe a few outtakes idk


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and kinda open-ending-y. But there will be a sequel in Michael’s point of view. If I ever manage to write something out of what was supposed to be chapter two I’ll post that too...
> 
> Thanks GeezerWench, and a special thanks to HappyGhost for teaching me that knobs and nozzles aren’t the same thing.

**Epilogue**

 

Nearly half an hour later, clothes in hand, I pushed open the door to the small bathroom. My movements were sluggish as I patted my sore ass with rolled-up wads of toilet paper. I checked it for blood and was unbelievably grateful when there wasn’t any. My hands trembled when I pushed the shower curtain to the side and climbed into the tub. Feeling chilled to the bone, I craved the warmth of a hot shower. But even though I turned the handle all the way to the left, all that came out was a lukewarm trickle.

 

I hated the feeling bubbling up inside of me.

 

It was like … every time I moved I could feel his cock in me … still … and without it I felt just … empty.

 

I hated it.

 

I hated that he made me hurt on what should have been the best night of my life.

 

For some fucking reason I didn’t hate him, and for that I actually hated him, which was really fucked up.

 

It wasn’t like I could take any of it back. Even if I could I wouldn’t. That didn’t stop me from wishing it had been different. I had imagined kissing, or at least looking into his eyes when he...

 

_ Looking into his eyes _ ...

 

God. How could I do that again after what happened between us?

 

Without thinking, I smashed my fist into the wall. Something I regretted immediately when a sharp stabbing pain shot up my arm all the way to my shoulder. I pressed my lips together to silence the small whimper. Hot tears mixed with the tepid water. 

 

Furiously, I wiped at my wet cheeks, useless with how weak the stream was. That’s when I noticed the blood on my knuckles, realizing I must have cut my hands on the cracked tiles.

 

My voice sounded broken and frail when I shook my head, whispering, “I can’t.”

 

I shut off the shower and climbed out of the tub to stand in front of the small mirror over the sink. There had been barely any steam to talk about, but I swept my palm across it anyway. I had to blink a few times before my reflection came into focus.Craning my neck, I got a good look at the bruise that had already started forming. I used one of the somewhat clean hand towels to dry myself as best as I could before getting dressed. Black jeans, my black UFO Emporium T-shirt, and black hoodie.

 

“I have to get out of here,” I told the reflection in the spotted and murky mirror.

 

Raising my chin, determination shining in my eyes, I used the sleeve of my hoodie to erase the last of the tears. Searching my pockets, I found my eyeliner. I traced thick, black lines around my eyes—the last of my armor in place.

 

I made sure I had everything, then snuck out of the room so I wouldn’t wake him. I texted Liz, telling her Guerin was driving home with them because there was no way in HELL I could spend ten hours alone with him in the car without killing someone. Maria was staying at her on-again off-again, long-distance fuck buddy’s place, so I parked my car outside his building, content to wait until she was ready to leave. I got as comfortable as I could and closed my eyes.

 

As I dozed off, one last coherent thought drifted through my mind before I fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

_ I guess it was true what they said about being careful what you wished for. It might come true, and then what are you gonna do. _

 

**The End**

 

**Thank you all for reading**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnotes: The sequel will be up… sometime. Stay tuned

**Author's Note:**

> Endnotes: I’m thinking four chapters for this, and then maybe a short sequel in Michael’s point of view.
> 
>  
> 
> Endnotes 2: Sorry if fucked up Liz’s Spanish. I did as best as I could
> 
> Definitions and honorable mentions
> 
> The Iron Chair is a torture device that has several different variations depending on its origin and use throughout history. It also has many names - the Chinese torture chair, the torture chair, and the Iron Chair.
> 
> PVC clothing, commonly known as "vinyl clothing", is shiny clothing made of the plastic polyvinyl chloride (PVC).The PVC plastic is also called vinyl.
> 
> The cat o' nine tails, commonly shortened to the cat, is a type of multi-tailed whip that originated as an implement for severe physical punishment, notably in the Royal Navy and Army of the United Kingdom, and also as a judicial punishment in Britain and some other countries.


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